


Adventures in Irrationality

by Ellerigby13



Series: 2019 Valentine's Date-a-palooza [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Don't Try This At Home, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Smut, Stranger Sex, Wrong number
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 18:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17667506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellerigby13/pseuds/Ellerigby13
Summary: It's definitely a bad idea to meet a stranger in the park at three in the morning because he just so happened to text you as you were getting off work.  But Darcy's good judgment is taking a sabbatical, at least for tonight.For my 2019 Valentine's Date-a-palooza prompts :)





	Adventures in Irrationality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [randomlittleimp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomlittleimp/gifts).



> WARNING: I don't care how handsome a stranger is; if someone accidentally booty-texts you in the middle of the night, I cannot advocate for going to bang him in a secluded area, even if it is someone as foxy as Sebastian Stan. That being said, I hope you can fulfill those stranger sex fantasies through fanfic like I have ;)

It all started with one, teensy, totally mostly innocent text.

_ You up? _

Darcy had frowned down at the unfamiliar number, kicking out of her shoes and into her fuzziest pair of slippers after a long day at the lab with Jane, followed by a long night shift at the twenty-four hour diner she occasionally moonlighted at when she needed an extra buck or two.  It was now pushing three in the morning, and there had been no other reason anyone would text another person with those exact two words without the intentions Darcy saw right through.

“Fucking rando pervert,” she’d whispered, but against her better judgment, which was questionable at most at this kind of hour, started typing out a response.

_ Wrong number, my friend.  And btw that’s like the most obvious and cheesy line to feed someone at 3 am. _

She tossed the phone beside her and got ready to switch on  _ The Great British Bake Off _ , put on her pajamas, but there was an itch in the back of her skull.  Something that made her fidget when her favorite contestant made the most delicious-looking arrangement of rum and buttercream cake pops, something that made her pick up her phone after it buzzed a second time.

It was a photo this time, though not the kind that Darcy would expect from a late night texter.  A fully clothed selfie, in what looked like candid enough light, of a dark-haired young man who clearly knew nothing about how to pose for a selfie.  But he was handsome. And the picture looked just candid enough to be real.

That, and the background didn’t particularly look like the lair of a frat boy or serial killer.

Darcy couldn’t help but snort at the follow-up message.

_ Wouldn’t be creepy if this were Tinder.  Could just be fate. _

Going against her better (and quickly deteriorating) judgment the second time in the last fifteen minutes, Darcy decided to snap a real photo back, puckering her lips in a cheap imitation of disgust.

_ Must be real lonely if you’re wasting time on a gal like me. _

The guy on the other end pinged her back quicker than she’d expected.   _ Real lonely or real lucky? _

Darcy’s eyes almost rolled straight out of her head at the corniness, and at the lame expectation this guy was hanging over her.  But that itch in the back of her brain reminded her that it  _ was _ Friday night - or Saturday morning, if she wanted to get semantic.  And that she’d shaved her legs the morning prior, because she’d just bought a kickass new skirt and wanted to show them off at the lab.  And that she hadn’t gotten laid in what felt like centuries, and even then it was with that Brian guy from Bumble, who’d halfheartedly fucked her in the back of his mom’s station wagon and then  _ thanked _ her before speeding off while she waited on an Uber.  

That itch texted the handsome stranger back to meet her at an old park just down the street from her apartment, on a tennis court that was shielded from the main road.  And damn if that itch wasn’t both stupid and horny.

There was something simultaneously beautiful and terrifying about waiting for him, and a series of late night TV crime shows from her childhood flashed through Darcy’s memory.  This was how you got chopped up into tiny little pieces and found in the morning by idle joggers.

But the thrill of not knowing, of that dreadful anticipation low in her stomach, that thrill made her press her knees together to quell the heat south of her navel.

The handsome stranger didn’t keep her waiting too long, and though the dim lights crackling above them confirmed that he was, in fact, the man from the pictures, Darcy turned away when he approached her.

The next few minutes passed by quickly, and before she knew it, her fingers had dug into the chain link fence in front of her, the stranger’s calloused hand snaking up her sweater and teasing her stiffened nipple.  He’d thrust her pajama shorts and panties down to her ankles and was teasing her open from behind, what felt like his thumb parting the soft, wet folds of her pussy. Darcy let out something like a hiss when she felt his breath on her shoulder, the heat from his lips tracing its way up her neck.

“Fucking beautiful, doll,” he hummed into her hair, and she almost whined when he took his hands off her, but the sound of a wrapper tearing and latex stretching over skin appeased those rational parts of her that she thought had long gone.  She looked down in front of her, into the hedges that hid the tennis court from passersby, and felt the blunt nudge of his wrapped cock between her legs, but he didn’t press forward. “Last chance to back out, babe.”

“Not on your life.”  She grunted and reached down between her thighs to coax him into her, relishing the way his hips met her ass when he bottomed out inside her, longer and thicker than a phone stranger ought to be.

One of his hands dug into her hip so he could pick up his rhythm, the other sliding back up into her shirt to cup her breast.  Darcy gasped at the sensitive sensations, but rocked into him equally hard, using the fence in front of her for leverage against his cock.

“Fuck, dude, you are better at this than - ah - than you should be.”  Her teeth locked over her bottom lip, and he was hitting her inside at just the right spot, over and over, filling her so deeply and so completely that if he had actually been an axe murderer the whole time, just this feeling might be worth it.

He pressed his lips into the tender area at the nape of her neck, opening his mouth a little to close his teeth over her flesh, letting his tongue skim out to brush her before releasing, and Darcy moaned as quietly as she could into the night, arching her back so she could take him impossibly deeper.

She came faster and harder than she’d cum in what felt like years, the bounce of his cock and the roughness of his hips jerking against her sending her over the edge.  White danced in the corners of her vision, but she swallowed and leaned her head into the fence just as the stranger picked up his pace and, a few ragged thrusts later, pinned himself to her and to the fence in front of her as he came.

As the air finally made its way back into her lungs and the blood back into her head, Darcy gently pressed against him, and the stranger gave way without a fight, pulling out of her and quickly rolling the condom off and flinging it in the general direction of the nearest trash can.

Darcy yanked her panties and shorts back up, finally allowing herself to feel the chill of the early morning bite at her legs.  The guy had zipped himself back into his jeans, and it was only when the overhead lights finally cast some clarity on his face - he looked  _ exhausted _ , and Darcy had to judge it wasn’t only from their little tryst.

“Not to sound super clichéd,” she began slowly, nearly wincing at exactly how clichéd it felt to be addressing him so awkwardly after boning in the park.  “But...do you wanna grab a coffee or something? No offense or anything, but you look beat.”

He chuckled, and for the first time Darcy saw him smile, something genuine and golden in the way that his eyes crinkled and his lips parted.

“I could go for a coffee.”

“I know a twenty-four hour place not too far from here...they got some pretty damn good scones, if I do say so myself.”  He laughed again. She was getting too attached to that sound, to that smile. “I, uh...I’m Darcy, by the way.”

He grinned down at the hand she’d shoved his direction, and took it for a hearty shake, letting go when she loosened her grip and nodded toward the diner.

“Bucky.  Nice to...you know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed <3


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